


An Exercise in Involuntary Superheroism

by LittleMissOverlord



Category: DCU
Genre: Accidental Heroism, Gen, Humor, listen idk what this is exactly all i know is i had fun writing it, probably very very ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 09:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissOverlord/pseuds/LittleMissOverlord
Summary: "A superhero who is actually the world's worst supervillain" - Ask, and thou shalt recieve  ;)c





	An Exercise in Involuntary Superheroism

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I know nothing about Batman or the DC 'verse, comics, shows, movies, or otherwise. All the stuff in this fic is either the product of google-fu or some half forgotten memories of the Batman comics I used to read at the doctors when I was like 10. Don't take this seriously, please.

„Yo Dice! Keep it up man! You did good today!”   
I keep my head down and try to hurry away as fast as possible without drawing even more attention to myself.   
“Duo! Nice job with that traffic pileup! Hey, wanna go and get drinks with the guys later? You know we always save a place at the table for you.”   
I pretend I heard nothing and take a sharp left into the small alley leading to the parking garage under the daily planet building. I know I should’ve parked somewhere else, somewhere I could get to without having to hurry through half Metropolis in full costume, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Should’ve known this was gonna come back and bite me in the ass. Next time I’ll – I don’t know what I’ll do. It’s not like I’ve got unlimited funding to build myself a hoverjet or something, not since Lex kicked me out of the Super Secret Supervillain Club (I miss the catering almost as much as the money. They always had these triple chocolate chip cookies the size of small frisbees, and they’d heat them up for you, but not in a microwave, but in a – I’m getting off topic, aren’t I?). I mean, theoretically I could probably highjack one of those totally advanced military planes or something, or just violate some traffic laws, but the way things have been going lately? Better not risk it.   
“Hey man! Duo! Wait up! Yo why won’t you come get drinks with us? You a lightweight or something?”   
I hunch my shoulders even further and gather my cape around me. Sometimes dramatic flair needs to be sacrificed for speed. Not that I could out-power-walk the Flash. But I can certainly try.   
“Or is it, like, a secret identity thing? Cause I can totally respect that, I’ll buy you a soda or something if you’re worried about being a chatty drunk but that’s always lame, being the only sober guy when everyone else is drinking OR you know what? We’ll just set you up with something with SUPER low alcohol content like I don’t know a vodka martini but with water instead of vodka and then you won’t get drunk so fast so you can just TELL me when you feel the urge to rip of that well-fitting domino mask of yours and I’ll-   
“Fuck OFF.”   
“Yeah, something like that.” He grins. It’s infuriating.   
“Fuck off NOW.”   
“Yeah ok. You got places to be, dontcha? Super cool super secret secret identity things, I get it. Well, see you next time!” He throws me a quick salute and then he’s off, thank heavens.   
Why does this keep happening to me?!   
I spend hours, days, sometimes even weeks coming up with evil schemes, genius, evil, terrible, foolproof schemes, and then I take a day or two off work, suit up, get everything rolling and then I fuck it up. I fuck it up so gloriously, not only do I accidently foil my plan, I usually manage to ruin at least one other supervillain’s operation while I’m at it. A few weeks ago, I wanted to rob a bank and the hostage I took was Deadshot. Before that, I went to break Poison Ivy and the rest of the gang out of the Asylum, and the only patient I managed to free before the alarms went off was actually the Batman in disguise. Today, I had a meeting with Lex Luthor about a potential collab and on my way to the meeting point I witnessed an accident on Main Street, went to pickpocket the bystanders, and before I knew it I was pulling people out of cars and handing them to Superman.   
And of course I was in full costume. Because I always am when something like that happens. I’m starting to think this is a Metropolis thing. The few times I’ve tried some minor stuff in Gotham it went off without a hitch. But, you know. Never work where you sleep and all that. I’m trying to keep villain life and civilian life strictly separate. Also, being a criminal has gotten a lot harder since all these Robins have been popping up everywhere. I swear, they’re like these little Russian dolls. You defeat one and another, smaller, infinitely more angry one pops up where the bigger one was. Where is Batman keeping them all? Does he have a stock of them somewhere in a giant storage closet? Is he secretly a father of fifteen and when one of his kids gets a good grade on their tests they’re allowed to be Robin for a week?   
Anyhow, Gotham is strictly off the table, even if it does look more and more tempting with every new accidental good deed I end up committing. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep this up. I’ve already lost all of my hard earned street cred and most of my friends as it is. I used to be super close with the Riddler, you know. Now we hardly ever talk anymore. Every time we see each other he just stares at me like I’m a half filled out sudoku. It’s super awkward.   
I’ve reached my car. I glance around before opening the trunk and clipping off my cape. I toe off the bright red boots that go with my matching lycra tights and quickly shimmy into my jeans. I usually just wear my costume under my civvies when I’m on the go. It looks enough like the Bludhaven men’s gymnastics team uniforms (which is…not entirely a coincidence) to mostly pass as sporting gear in public, anyways. I start the car and make my way back to Gotham. I can’t believe I’ve managed to ruin another plan. Two, actually, I’m pretty sure I can forget whatever Lex had in mind for me. Well, at least I wasn’t bored today.   
It’s late by the time I get back to my shitty apartment in my shitty building in my shitty neighborhood. I’m in a bad mood. And I’m in an even worse mood when I realize that the rats have gotten into my fridge. Again. It doesn’t close properly, is the problem. You’ve got about a 70% chance of the thing staying shut when it is, odds dropping rapidly, and with the rat infestation….I’m pretty sure they’re mutant (they get into metal tins and garbage cans, I’ve seen them physically lift the lids above their heads, no rodent can be this strong, I’m sure) and of course the landlord won’t do anything about them.   
I’ve been eating away from home a lot in the last few days.   
Well, I can get out of the skintight lycra, at least.   
Forty minutes and a disappointingly luke warm shower later, I’m staring at the smashed storefront of my favorite Indian place. This is the last straw. It's cold, it’s dark, it’s almost midnight, I’m half an hour away from home, by foot, because I can’t afford to waste any more gas, and now, on top of all that, I don’t even have a plate full of Rogan Josh to cry into. I want to punch something. I want to throw myself off a rooftop. I want to curl up into a very small ball and cry until I fall asleep.   
And that’s how I find myself on the roof of some half-collapsed building, standing behind one of those fake gothic stone gargoyles that architects in the 30s were apparently obsessed with, if the sheer number of these things is anything to go by. And, because the universe hates me, I close my eyes for two seconds and when I open them, I almost fall on my butt because that’s the Batman standing in front me. Wow, I’ve never seen him up close like this. The pictures REALLY don’t do him justice. His suit somehow looks darker than in the pictures they sometimes print in the newspaper. Like it’s really made of shadows. Like he really IS the night. It’s almost as if he’s blurry around the edges.   
It’s SUPER unsettling, but I did a gig with the Joker once. You survive planning a kidnapping and the subsequent two weeks of living in the same house while waiting for the ransom money with THAT psychopath and everyone else looks like an angry kitten compared, even the Batman.   
He’s standing really still. And he’s got those weird opaque eye goggle things that make it impossible to say if he’s looking at you or not. We stare at each other for a while. Or, at least I stare at him. Maybe he’s secretly taking a 30 second nap behind the mask. I don’t know, I don’t have x-ray vision (sadly). It gets old real quick.   
“So…are you actually gonna say something or…?”   
No reaction.   
“Am I…taking you spot? Is this…your gargoyle?”   
Still, nothing. I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall and – “You know what? I don’t have to do this today.”   
I turn around, bury my hands in the pockets of my ugly jacket, and make towards the rickety fire escape I used to get up here in the first place.   
“Martin Meyers. Duo Dice.”   
I freeze. That has GOT to be some voice distortion software, there’s no way in HELL he actually sounds like that.   
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”   
I throw him a cheeky wink over the shoulder. When backed into a corner, cheesy flirting is always my first defense.   
“Martin. You don’t have to do this.”   
“Do what? I can assure you, big boy, whatever it is, I haven’t even started yet.”   
“You know exactly what I mean.”   
“’Fraid not, sugar. Ya gotta be a bit more specific.”   
“Enabling Lex Luthor. Attempting to rob banks. Stealing Jimmy Jones lucky gymnastics suit a day before the regional championships, causing him to lose so badly he almost retires. Shoplifting. Attempting to break Gotham’s Most Wanted out of jail. There’s a lot more on your record, but I’m sure you know that better than anyone.”   
I’m confused. Is he here to arrest me? Should I run? I know I don’t stand a chance against him though, not like this. I’m not dumb. I keep him talking.   
“You…want me…to stop…doing crimes?” I try tentatively.   
“Yes I want you to…stop doing crimes.”   
Why do I get the feeling he’s seriously fighting the urge to rub at his temples?   
“Buddy that is…not happening.”   
“What if I offered you a job?”   
“What kind of job…exactly?”   
“I would like to offer you a position-“ He swallows, audibly, even through the weird filter he has, as if what he’s going to say pains him physically, “I would like to offer you a position as an official member of the Justice League.”   
I stare at him. He stares back (I think).   
“This is a joke, right?”   
“I’m afraid not. We took a – a vote last week and it was decided that they – we want you on the team.”   
“You guys ARE aware of the fact that I am, technically, a supervillain, yes?”   
Batman snorts at that. Actually snorts. The audacity of this man.   
“You are, at best, a minor inconvenience. The others don’t even know.”   
And, considering the weird sort of luck I’m having lately, that does actually seem fair. Doesn’t mean I have to like it though. Also, I won’t be intimidated into joining the other side like some Cobblepot intern on his first day.   
“What if I say no?”   
“Then I’ll have to arrest you. And I’m sure your friend Barry would be very disappointed if he found out that his good buddy Duo Dice wasn’t who he said he was.”  
“Who the fuck is Barry?”  
“What do you mean- Barry? Barry Allen? The Flash? The dude you’ve been talking almost every time you leave the house? Wears a bright red costume and couldn’t shut up if you paid him?”  
“Wait his name is Barry? Barry like Barry White? You’re telling me I have a whole field of unexplored soul jokes waiting for me? Oh my God this is the best day of my life.”   
“No this isn’t what I- “  
I drop my voice two octaves.  
“So what do you want to do, I’m here baby.”  
“No stop seriously-“  
“I’m ready baby, I’m waiting on you.”  
“Stop it! Stop! In the name of Gotham I – “  
“Believe me, I am patiently waiting on you…”  
He lunges at me. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.   
“Roll to hit.”, I whisper, and throw a D20 in the air.


End file.
